


Lovetorn

by accol



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:50:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accol/pseuds/accol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BtVS drabbles originally written for fivesentencesmut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Anonymous asked: Oz/Willow: Years after the events of BTVS, Willow finally does turn that corner in Istanbul and meets up with her former werewolf boyfriend and they can’t express how glad they are to see each other._

She didn’t even notice him at first; she was too busy scanning the souq’s tables for spell ingredients (she really needed this exact kind of goat pelt, or everything was going to go all wonky and Xander would end up with that high voice again like Alvin the Chipmunk — that was funny, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled about having it last a whole week).  But then Oz called out her name and his quiet voice cut straight through all of the hubbub and pierced into every part of her body. Her magic resonated in one loud burst for a second; wind blew down the market’s aisle, sending dried fruits and candy-colored scarves whistling past and Willow into Oz’s wiry, tattooed arms.

“Hey,” they greeted each other as he slid into her upon a pile of pillows in the room of her inn, his orange hair too long and his skin turned golden from years in the wild.  But he was still her Oz — gentle and fierce in one awesome little package — even if they both knew their way around a bed a little better than they had back then.  Willow sighed as he made her come, pulling him tight and letting her pleasure roll over them both in a red-tinged wave of power.  


	2. Chapter 2

_Anonymous asked: Buffy/human!Angel, instant gratification on the kitchen table_

Angel felt everything, every ache, the pinch of Buffy’s strong grip… things he hadn’t noticed when he was Vampire, before the demon blood brought him back this way. Sliding into Buffy’s wet warmth made his knees go weak, the pleasure sapping the strength from his muscles with its intensity and earthiness as she clenched around him. This was as right as it was wrong; love torn between what was meant to be and what wasn’t, the present versus the forever.

“Stop thinking and just be with me,” Buffy said softly, a hand on the scruff of his cheek… stubble that hadn’t grown for more than a hundred years and now prickled against her skin, real and harsh.

Angel gave in to the human pleasure, letting his lips rest against the side of her throat as he thrust into her and wondering if he really deserved this.


	3. Chapter 3

_Anonymous asked: Spike and Dru, worshipping_

“I was dreaming,” Drusilla said, voice languid and body spread upon the bedclothes, white skin against red silk.  “You were just a young man, and you’d written me the most lovely poem.” 

Her eyes were shut, long lashes tickling her cheeks, and Spike wanted nothing more than to cover her body with marks handwritten there, covering every inch of her bareness.  He lifted her leg by a delicate ankle and laid a soft kiss on the arch of her foot, trailing his lips along her smooth skin.  “Tell me more, pet,” Spike said, settling between her knees.

She gasped and threaded her fingers into his hair as his tongue met her wetness.  “It was beautiful:  blood, death, power.”  She gasped again, “And your mouth on me for eternity.”

He wanted nothing more.


	4. Chapter 4

_Anonymous asked: Oz/Spike, Spike has a ginger fetish_

Spike hated werewolves, end of story… except when it isn’t the end of the story, like right now with Oz’s sharp fingernails digging into the flesh of his arms.  He hated the way they smelled, usually like they bathed about as often as the full moon came about, though perhaps Oz smelled alright and perhaps Spike’s mouth was watering.    
  
Ok, fine, Oz’s hair was… bloody hell, it smelled nice, and it felt nice in his fist, and it was _pretty_ ; he couldn’t stop touching it even though this was the snarky, do-gooder werewolf he was meant to hate to the core of his reconstituted soul.    
  
“Well, hello,” Oz smirked and Spike realized that he’d begun thrusting up against Oz’s thigh and trying to kiss him; fucking embarrassing this.    
  
Spike started on the button of Oz’s jeans and tried to act calmer than he felt when he said, “Shall we find out if the carpet matches the drapes?”


End file.
